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Wednesday, January 23, 2013

It didn’t matter what the illness was . . . chicken pox, the flu, pneumonia . . . when I was a kid and I was sick, my dad always told me I had “northlilis” (that’s pronounced north-lye-liss).

What is northlilis exactly? Well, that’s the thing. It’s nothing. And everything. It’s a catch-all word that covers every medical ailment under the sun.

Lately, it’s come in handy around here. I haven’t blogged because for going on five weeks now, I’ve had northlilis.

We cancelled Christmas Eve. We cancelled Christmas. We cancelled New Year’s Eve. We cancelled New Year’s Day. Since then, I’ve cancelled drinks with friends and I don’t know how many other things.

All because of northlilis.

This past Sunday was the first day in five weeks that I haven’t taken a nap. So maybe that means I’ve turned a corner. With any luck, the worst is over and I can get back to writing and blogging and taking care of all the business of life.

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

A few weeks ago, I was at the library and found this book called Clear Your Clutter with Feng Shui. I've always been interested in Feng Shui, but end up getting confused by the grids and charts and the fact that every article I read or book I see tends to have a different philosophy. This is supposed to be enlightening, but it just ends up confusing me. Anyhow, I picked up this book and immediately saw that it had no big charts. Point one for said book.

It turned out to be less about placing certain objects in certain spots and more about releasing things from your life that you no longer need. It's a simple idea, but so hard to do in reality (at least for me).

In fact, the book was so good that when it was overdue at the library (is that a form of clutter?) I went ahead and bought a copy for my personal library. It gives step-by-step instructions on how to clear the things out of our lives that serve to muck things up - not only that stack of school papers or bills on the dining room table, but those unfinished projects that just serve to make us guilty. Or what about all the stuff in the basement that we never use? You ask yourself: Do I love it? Do I actually use it? (and not just once ten years ago).

It was amazing to me just how many things in my life failed that simple test.

It's not about pristine neatness (thank goodness), but more about only having things in your house that work for you. Like having a junk drawer works because it is a catch-all. Having all drawers be full of junk is less workable.

It's amazing to find out what's really clutter. I went down in our basement and started going through things: like the serving platter we've never used (yet we hosted Christmas eve this year), the seven plastic tubs of cake pans that my mother-in-law gave us. Yes, she had a business selling cakes, but when am I going to use an Alf pan? I found cool things from college that I do plan to keep. But I also found my freshman year diary that gives a day-by-day replay of my miserable first year at school. Why am I holding on to that?

It's been my mission to fill the trash cans every week with clutter, and it has been cathartic in a way I never expected. Yes, there are things I will always keep - like that little box of cute baby outfits from when my kids were little. But to have space in my basement - and to know I made that space in my life - it really has been priceless.

Monday, January 21, 2013

Happy Monday, all! A lot of stuff has happened to me personally with the passing of an elderly family member, but I'm back this week to talk about fish (and he's still alive, hooray!) and the cover reveal this past week for my upcoming Coveted series novella.

Over the weekend I bought a new pet for the family. I could've gone all out and bought a tank and a bunch of fish, but based on the past history in the household with fish, I going to start slow with one fish. The kids have named him Darwin and I hope he is the fittest fish because my kids are so...attentive. They talk to him, gather close to show him toys and such. He doesn't seem thrilled with their attention. LOL

I'm getting all sorts of tips on how to take care of him from readers and friends. Be sure to toss any my way if you have them!

Just in case you missed it. On Talking Supe, I revealed the cover for the upcoming Coveted series novella featuring Aggie McClure--BITTER DISENCHANTMENT. I'm excited about Aggie's store. Before Aggie ventured into South Toms River, New Jersey and began her adventures with Natalya, she had problems of her own to face. This novella delves into that.

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

I'm going to do something tonight that I've been wanting to do for a long time. It's fun. It's sexy. And it involves many, many men. And not that I'll play favorites, but Channing Tatum may get most of my attention. Who knows? I suppose I'll try and give the other guys a fair shot.

Yes, I think I may be the last woman on the planet to see Magic Mike. I meant to go see it at the theatre when it first came out, but then life happened and the one time a girlfriend and I managed to get out and see it, we had so much fun at dinner beforehand that we decided to skip the movie, order another glass of wine and keep talking.

But tonight is the night. My husband (who has no interest in the movie) is out of town, there is chocolate in the house (don't ask me why this is necessary, but trust me, it is) and a Red Box movie on the counter.

Alice's
heart began to race as she saw Ian dive through the waves in pursuit of her,
his powerful body breaking through the white caps with minimal effort. Just
like before, the mere anticipation of his nearness sent waves of awareness and
desire rushing through her...along with a pulsing sense of danger.

He
was too determined, and the look on his teammate's face too arrogant as he
followed Ian through the waves. She didn't know what they wanted from her, but she
knew she couldn't afford it.

She quickly
turned her back on them and moved to the edge of the rock, scanning the surface
of the ocean for the bumps that were too sleek and too misty to be natural. The
pearl was still cold in her hand, clenched there despite all that had happened
since she'd thrown herself into the water.

The
Mageaan had known she was in the ocean. They'd tried to kill her, which meant
they were nearby, or they had been at least. Were they still around? Trying to
ignore the sound of Ian getting closer to her, Alice inched toward the edge of
the rock. She opened her hand and looked at the pearl. Glittering streaks of
red, orange, crimson and silver sliced across its surface, like the clouds at
sunset on the eve of a hurricane. "Please let this work," she
whispered. It was such a risk to reveal
that she had the pearl. To give it away was to surrender the one safeguard she
had against an eternity of hell, against the future that Ian seemed to be pushing
her towards.

But
without the help of the creatures in the water below, she had no chance to find
Catherine. The Mageaan owned the oceans. They knew everything and everyone that
passed through their waters. They would know where Catherine was, but they
would never reveal it. Not to an outsider. Not to someone who represented all
they had lost…unless she had something to offer them that was more than they
could resist.

The
pearl was that item. She might be able to convince the Mageaan to trade information
for the jewel. Of course, once she reached Catherine… A cold chill rippled
through her. How would she manage that without Flynn? She couldn't do that on
her own.

No.
She couldn’t worry about that now. None of it mattered if she couldn't find
Catherine in the first place, and the Mageaan were the only ones who would know
how to find the lair that was hidden, obscured by magic and tricks so that no
one could find it. No one but the man who had created it... and those who
haunted the ocean.

She
carefully held the pearl up between her thumb and index finger so that the
moon's blue-green rays seemed to refract through it, bringing it to life. She
glanced over her shoulder and saw Ian was almost to the rock, his muscled
shoulders churning powerfully through the whitecaps as he neared.

Crap!
He was almost to the rock! Alice quickly
extended her hand out over the ocean. It was risky, exposing it like that, but
she was over a hundred feet above the water. The Mageaan were ocean bound, and
they would not be able to steal it from her up here. "I have one of the
Pearls of Lycath," she shouted. "I will trade it for your help!"
The wind seemed to strip the words from her mouth and thrust them out across
the water, reverberating again and again. "You can have it," she
yelled, even as fear rippled through her at the idea of giving it up. "I
will offer it freely!"

A
haunted call sounded across the ocean, making the hairs on her arms stand up.
Alice searched the water, and she saw a faint drift of mist forming on the
horizon. Excitement shot through her. Was that the Mageaan? "I have the
pearl," she yelled again, holding it out for them to see. "It's genuine.
I will trade it for your help!"

The
mist swirled closer and thicker, and the water churned more violently as the
wind began to howl. Her hair slashed her cheeks, her clothes snapped in the
gusts. On the edges of the wind, Alice thought she heard the sound of a woman
screaming. Dozens of women screaming, the kind of screams that heralded a
brutal death coming for them. Their torment was horrific, the pain of souls
being ripped apart for an eternity of suffering.

She
froze, horrified by the sound. Oh, God. What was that? Was that the Mageaan? If
it was, it was so much worse than she'd expected. She'd heard the stories. She'd
been warned a thousand times. But there had been no way to comprehend the
depths of such suffering. The edge to their screams was like a blade shredding
the night. Was that her future? Was that what she would become without the
pearl to protect her?

Real
terror rippled through her. I can't do
this. Her hand faltered, and she started to lower it—

A
violent gust of wind slammed into her shoulders from behind, thrusting her forward
off the edge of the rock. She screamed as she was thrust into the air, and then
the wind tore the pearl from her grasp. "No!"

Anguish
tore through her as she lunged for it, but her hand closed on empty air as the
pearl plummeted down toward the water, the wind howling in triumph, as if the
Mageaan themselves had compelled it to help them. Beneath her swelled the mist,
but it was no longer white. It was a seething, frothing purple and black pool
of poison—

"Hey!"
A hand clamped around her wrist, jerking her backwards.

Alice
gasped as she ricocheted back against the side of the rock, her body slamming
into hard granite, suspended above the tumultuous ocean by one arm. She looked
up, and her heart stuttered when she saw Ian down on one knee on the top of the
rock, his fingers locked around her wrist. "No, no!" She tugged at
her arm. "Let me go! I have to get the pearl! I dropped it in the
water!" Frantic, she kicked at the rock, trying to tear herself out of his
grasp.

"Hey!"
He tightened his grip, ocean water streaming down his arm over his hand. "A
pearl? You're serious? You'll never find a pearl down there. That ocean is
trying to kill you."

"I
don't care! Let me go!" Without the pearl, she had nothing: no future for
herself and no way to find Catherine.
"I have to get it!" Frantic, she twisted around to search the
frothing depths, but her heart sank when she saw the ocean churning beneath
her. Hate-filled green and purple swells fighting to get to her, to reclaim the
victim they'd lost once, and deadly mist swirled over the surface of the water.

She
couldn't survive that. There was no way she could reclaim her pearl from that. Despair
coursed through her, utter despair. It was gone. Without it, Catherine was lost
to her. One moment of fear and hesitation for her own stupid life, and she'd lost
her chance. Frustration and guilt burned through Alice, and all the fight
drained from her body. She hung limply from Ian's grasp, the cold wet rock
pressing against her as she dangled over her death. This couldn't happen again.
She couldn't fail again.

"Alice."
Ian's voice was low. Impatient. "Look at me."

She
pulled her gaze off the ocean and looked up, compelled by the urgency in his
voice. The moment she met his intense gaze, awareness coursed through her.
Awareness of the man, of herself, of something more personal than it should
have been. Fear rippled through her, fear of the warrior who held her wrist.

"I've
never met someone more likely to die than I am," he said conversationally,
as if he wasn't the only thing standing between her and a nightmare. "It's
damned inconvenient."

She
met his gaze, her jaw jutting out. "I'm not afraid of death."

"No,
I can see that." One eyebrow was raised, but his eyes were cool and
calculating. Water was streaming down his arm over hers, but his grip was tight
and secure. "What is it that you are afraid of, Alice Shaw?"

What
was she afraid of? Unbidden, the memory flashed into her mind. Her mother,
blood pouring from a wound in her chest, laboring to breathe. Her mother's
blond hair matted with blood and dirt, her bright blue eyes glazed over with
the onset of death, her lips parted as she fought to share those last words
with her own daughter while Alice sat there, inches away, unable to do the one
simple thing that would have saved her life—

Ian's
gaze sharpened. Who is that in your mind, sheva? Who died like that? His voice was soft and gentle, reaching deep
into her soul, tearing away at the protective shields that enabled her to get
through her life every day.

She
quickly stiffened, and shook her head. "Leave me alone."

Ian's
eyes narrowed. "Maybe you should save that request for after I pull you
back up."

Alice
grimaced, and glanced down, the sea was still churning beneath her. Waves
splashed up, reaching for her ankles. Instinctively, she pulled her feet up,
bracing them against the rock. "You have a point."

"As
I thought." Ian grinned then, and braced himself on the rock.
"Ready?"

She
met his gaze, fighting not to be swallowed up by his piercing stare.
"Ready." She dug her toes into the rock.

"On
three." He cocked an eyebrow. "One." He held his other hand out
to her.

After
a split second of hesitation, she reached up and took his hand. His grip was strong
around her wrists again. Damn, the man was powerful. How was that fair? He
could probably take down the world, and she, the angel of life, couldn't save even
a single person, no matter how simple a task it would be to help them.

He
nodded. "Two."

She
wrapped her fingers around his wrist, and electricity jumped between them.
Dammit. Why hadn't things lessened between them? Why was he still affecting her
like this?

"Three."
He gave a curt nod and pulled.

She
pushed off the rock as he shifted his body, easily swinging her to the top of
the rock. Her bare feet landed silently on the rock, her toes tiny and pale
next to the heavy boots he was still wearing. "Swimming's easier without
boots," she said, trying desperately to put distance between them.

He
shrugged. "I was in a rush. You were getting away."

There
was that sense of being hunted by him again. Alice instinctively pulled out of
his grasp. "What do you want from me?"

Ian
went still for a moment, and his gaze bore down on her. She felt pressure in
her mind as he tried to break past her barriers, connecting with her too
intimately. She stiffened immediately and folded her arms over her chest,
raising her chin as she faced him, fighting against the swirl of emotion he
aroused in her. "You're not stalking me because of the soul mate thing,
are you? Because I'm not yours—"

"Yes,
you are." His response was instant and unyielding, and she felt her pulse
quicken in response.

She
couldn't afford to belong to him. She didn't want to crave him so badly that she
felt like her own soul would burst into violent flames if he walked away from
her…but she did. It was like he'd ignited a raging fire within her, one that he
stoked ever higher with each touch, with each word, with each kiss.

And
as a smug grin spread over his face, she knew that he was well aware of exactly
how he affected her.

"Damn
you, Ian," she snapped.

He
grinned more broadly, and she suddenly realized that she'd just laid down a
challenge that he was delighted to accept.

Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Happy Tuesday! Today, I'm working on a super sekrit project. (She says, rubbing her hands together.) Hopefully, I can let you in on it soon. In the mean time, I'm writing, brainstorming, writing some more...and realizing I may be too caught up in this whole thing.

You see, I thought I was handling everything else. But recently, I've learned there are a few things slipping through the cracks. Nothing huge. The kids are alive, the husband is happy, the dog has been fed (to be fair, she has learned to bang her food bowl quite loudly). No, it's Christmas decorations. They keep popping up - everywhere.

We took down the tree the weekend after Christmas. The wreaths are gone, the lights, everything big has been put away. But just when I think we've got things handled, I keep finding Christmas decorations. I'm okay with the little reindeer door knob hanger left on the way out to the deck. How often do you use a deck with snow on it? And maybe the cookie jar is okay to miss - it's been such a fixture for the past month. But last night, I came walking down the main stairs and noticed we totally forgot about the garland on the hand rails - complete with blinky lights that the kids had turned on.

How does one miss blinky lights? For an entire week?

Alas, there is nothing to be done. Not really. This new project is too fantastically fun. After it's finished, who knows? Maybe I'll find something from Halloween.

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Greetings, Wicked readers! I'm starting off 2013 right, with a new book! "Panic Button" is book #3 in the Button Box mystery series and in this book, Josie's got her hands full. One of her customers, Angela Morningside, has brought a charm string to Josie to be appraised. Charm strings? You've never heard of them? Well, here's the story: charm strings were all the rage in the late 1800s and early 1900s. Young girls would save buttons and string them and the custom was to never have two of the same button. You got buttons as gifts, traded them, brought them back from vacation as souvenirs. And when you had 1000 buttons on your charm string, legend said you'd meet your Prince Charming.

Pretty cool, right? Especially for Josie, one of the country's leading experts on antique and vintage buttons. Even partial charm strings are hard to come by, but Angela's . . . Angela's contains all 1000 original buttons. It's a button nerd's dream come true! There's only one problem--Angela is convinced that the charm string is cursed.

Josie is way too practical to believe in such nonsense. That is, until she finds Angela in the courtyard behind the Button Box, strangled with the charm string.

It's another fast-paced investigation for Josie and company and I hope you enjoy it. "Panic Button" includes a little bit of history, a whole lot of buttons and even pirates!